Things I'll Never Say
by conchetta
Summary: A school musical helps Lizzie and Gordo to finally admit the feelings they've shared for each other since junior high. COMPLETE.
1. Convincing Lizzie

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


_What's wrong with my tongue  
These words keep slipping away  
I stutter, I stumble  
Like I've got nothing to say  
_  
**A/N:** My friend, Corrie, knows how much I love to write, and so she introduced me to FanFiction.net. Tons of thanks go to her for that. This is my first story ever on here, and I'm hoping that at least a few people will like it, lol.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne.

  
  


Chapter One:

  
  


"You've got to be kidding me." I, eighteen-year-old Lizzie McGuire, shut my locker door with a loud bang before turning to stare imploringly at one of my best friends, Miranda Sanchez. The look on Miranda's face clearly stated that she was not, in fact, kidding about the statement she had just made.  
  
Miranda grinned as she took the light blue paper from me and began walking. "Why would I be kidding? You're a great actress and a great singer who deserves to be in the limelight for once . . . I see no problem," she replied, the devilish look on her face never leaving.  
  
I rolled my eyes and snatched the paper back from Miranda, folding it in half and then shoving it into a plastic sleeve in my English binder. Miranda new she was being ludicrous, and I knew she was enjoying it. "I see a couple of problems," I said. "For one, I don't like to act or sing in front of people, and for another, Kate Sanders has had the lead in all the school musicals since freshman year."  
  
At my mention of Kate Sanders, the blonde prima donna whom both Miranda and I had disliked since junior high (and vice versa), Miranda made a face like she had just tasted something sour. However, nothing could stop Miranda from launching into her reasons as to why I should do what she wanted me to do, so I tuned her out. It had been the same thing every year since we started high school, and now we were seniors; the drama teacher, Mrs. Baxter, would put up flyers around the school at the beginning of January in hopes of recruiting students at Hill Ridge High School to put on the annual musical of her choice . . . the musicals tended to be sappy romances that Kate Sanders and her posse just loved to perform, resulting in almost the entire cast being cheerleaders who either couldn't act or were tone deaf. Every year, Miranda would try to convince me to audition to be in the musical, and every year I would tell her no.  
  
Miranda's voice snapped me back into attention. "Lizzie, have you been listening to _anything_ I just said?" she demanded haughtily, placing her hands on her hips in the way she always did when she was angry.  
  
Before I had the chance to reply, a masculine laugh sounded behind me and an arm went around my shoulders as another went around Miranda's. "When does Lizzie _ever_ listen to you, 'Randa?" came the amused voice of David Gordon (more commonly known as "Gordo"), who was the only person who could get away with calling Miranda "'Randa".  
  
"Ugh, you're right," Miranda said, looking up at Gordo with a grin. Had this been back in our junior high days, it would have been Gordo looking up at Miranda, but he'd undergone a growth spurt in the ninth grade, sending him up to five feet eleven inches tall, making him tower over both Miranda and me.  
  
"Lizzie's always off in her own little world," Gordo continued as he removed his arms from around us to open the double doors at the front of the school.  
  
Before Miranda could say anything to Gordo to continue their teasings of me and my short attention span, I stated, "I resent that, Gordo."  
  
Laughing, Gordo answered, "You're supposed to. It would be bad if you agreed with it."  
  
Miranda looked ready to say something to make her agreement with Gordo known, but before she could, a horn honked and she whirled her head around. Her boyfriend, Dustin Hamilton was seated in his car in the junior parking lot, undoubtedly waiting for her. With a quick goodbye to Gordo and me and a "call me!" in my general direction, Miranda went to join Dustin. When she climbed into the passenger seat of the car, Dustin pulled out of his parking space and sped out of the lot.  
  
"Do you need a ride home?" Gordo asked me. He obviously remembered that my mom had asked to borrow my car that morning in order to run some errands; Dad was out of town on business and had his car. Matt was going to Melina's after school to work on a science project, which took care of finding a ride for him, since I usually drove him home.  
  
"If you don't care," I said, grinning at him. I knew he didn't care; in fact, he enjoyed driving Miranda and me places, for some odd reason.  
  
Gordo said nothing in response, just took my books and headed for the senior parking lot. When his cherry red Mustang convertible was in sight, Gordo reached into the pocket of his slightly baggy khakis and pulled out the remote, unlocking the car. He opened the door to the passenger's side, waiting for me to get in, and then closed it once I was seated; he then hurried to the driver's side, pausing for a moment to toss our books and his backpack into the back seat. Finally, he shut his door and started the ignition. The car was immediately filled with the sounds of the song _Your Body is a Wonderland_, by John Mayer.  
  
As Gordo pulled out of the lot and headed toward my house, his nosiness got the best of him and he asked, "So, what were you not listening to Miranda about, anyway?"  
  
"The usual," I responded, sighing. Gordo's confused look gave away the fact that he didn't know what "the usual" was, so I elaborated, "What does Miranda usually bug me about every January?"  
  
"The school musical?" Gordo asked, looking left and right at the intersection before speeding across. He then turned on his signal, turned right, and then cancelled the signal.  
  
"Yeah," I said. Frowning, I added, "She just can't take no for an answer. If she wants someone to beat Kate out for a lead, then why doesn't she just audition herself instead of pestering me about it?"  
  
Gordo shrugged. "Maybe she's having flashbacks of the play she was in in seventh grade," he answered, laughing a little. At the remembrance of _that_ disaster, I laughed as well . . . that might have had something to do with it.  
  
"Even so," I continued, "it gets a little annoying. Sure, I can sing, and sure, maybe I can act okay, but it doesn't mean I'm destined for a lead role in the musical. Everyone knows Kate always gets the lead."  
  
We had approached a red light, so after braking Gordo looked at me, an odd look in his eyes. "Lizzie, don't sell yourself short," he said softly. "You can get the lead if you'd just put your mind to it."  
  
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. "You sound like my parents, Gordo. And besides, I already said I didn't want the lead. Can we please talk about something else?"  
  
He looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled. The light turned green, and he made a right turn. "I was just thinking, though . . . I've thought about auditioning, and it would be great if you would, too. We could be the leads together!"  
  
I groaned. "Not you too," I complained, resisting the sudden urge I had to bang my head against the window. "I'm not the actress type, Gordo."  
  
"And Kate is?" I could see him raise his eyebrows in the way that only Gordo could out of the corner of my eye, and I grinned a little.  
  
"Well, no . . ." I admitted softly.  
  
"You're a great actress, Lizzie."  
  
I was starting to think about what it would be like if I did audition, and if I did get the lead role. But then, I could have kicked myself for starting to give in just because Gordo wanted me to do it. Miranda had been on my case for the past three years about it, and all Gordo had to do was give me a small compliment and I was sold. I bit my lip as Gordo pulled into the driveway of my house and he looked at me expectantly.  
  
"I'll think about it," I agreed finally, opening the car door after I got my books from the back seat. "Bye." He raised his hand in a wave, backed out of the driveway, and then sped down the road. When his car was out of sight, I stomped my foot angrily and then practically ran inside the house.  
  
  
  


**A/N:** So the first chapter, which is kind of boring, is over! If you couldn't tell already, this is going to be a Lizzie/Gordo story . . . my take on the L/G threads in the last three new episodes is that even though Lizzie found out Gordo liked her in "Clue-Less", and even though Lizzie realized she liked him too, they never admitted it, carrying over their crushes into high school. Leave a review . . . or, if you'd rather, e-mail your comments to me at riflediva726@yahoo.com. 


	2. Auditions

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Wow, I'm so _happy_ that some people found my fic enjoyable! You all are so great! Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed the first chapter . . . you know who you are. Also, thanks for the tips and compliments everyone gave me, and I'm going to use that feedback I received to attempt to improve my writing.  
  
By the way, I made up screennames for our favorite trio because I couldn't remember if their screennames had ever been mentioned on the show (*gasp*), and I figured that even if they had, they probably would have gotten new ones by their senior year.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrman.

  
  


Chapter Two:

  
  
_January 8, 2006_  
  
  
**xoLizzieox:** I've made my decision you guys . . . I'm gonna audition for the musical!  
**OhNoIt'sDrama:** I'm so happy! I knew you'd change your mind . . . but what _did_ make you change your mind?  
**xoLizzieox:** I guess I just decided that it's my senior year and I need to do _something_.  
**Gordo18:** *is hurt* So I guess my pep talk I gave you in the car had nothing to do with it? Lizzie . . . I'm shocked!  
**xoLizzieox:** Well, maybe a little.  
**OhNoIt's Drama:** I'm highly offended, Liz! After all my begging and pleading, you change your mind because he gives you a pep talk. Hmph.  
**Gordo18:** I guess my pep talks are miracle workers. And she likes me better than you.  
**OnNoIt'sDrama:** That's so immature, Gordo.  
**xoLizzieox:** *laughs* You guys are insane! Miranda, your begging and pleading convinced me, too - I wasn't sure how much more I could handle without having some sort of anxiety attack!  
**OhNoIt'sDrama:** So I annoyed you into it?  
**OhNoIt'sDrama:** Works for me!  
**xoLizzieox:** lol, Miranda!  
**OhNoIt'sDrama:** Thank you, I'll be here all year. :)  
**OhNoIt'sDrama:** Ugh, Mom wants to call Aunt Denise . . . gotta go. See you in school tomorrow!  
**xoLizzieox:** Bye.  
**Gordo18:** Bye, Randa.  
**OhNoIt'sDrama signed off at 8:46 p.m.**  
**Gordo18:** Hey, Lizzie . . . ?  
**xoLizzieox:** Yeah, Gordo?  
**Gordo18:** I'm glad you changed your mind.  
**Gordo18:** About the musical, I mean.  
**Gordo18:** It'll be fun . . .  
**Gordo18:** Working together, that is. If we both get cast.  
**Gordo18:** Lizzie? Are you there?  
**Gordo18:** HELLO?  
**xoLizzieox signed off at 9:05 p.m.**  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   
  
** _January 16, 2006_  
  
  
True to what I had said to Miranda and Gordo on the Internet the previous week, when the day of auditions came, I headed for the auditorium. Both Miranda and Gordo followed along after me, but for different reasons - Miranda for moral support, and Gordo because he was auditioning as well. Gordo and I had decided that if we auditioned and he wasn't cast, then I would decline my role, and vice versa, just because it was nice to be reassured that we'd have each other among all the cheerleaders.  
  
When we entered the large auditorium, most of the center seats close to the front had been taken. As I had suspected, Kate Sanders and her group of giggling friends were the majority of the students present, with a few jocks seated around them; the other remaining few were the stereotypical drama geeks, dressed all in black and looking as laid-back and casual as ever. I glanced at Gordo for a moment, intending on sharing a worried look with him, but he looked perfectly at ease. I settled for sharing the look with Miranda, who smiled at me in a comforting manner.  
  
We sat a little further back than most of the prospective actors and actresses, but still a little closer to the front than some of the more shy kids - mostly freshmen and a couple of sophomores - who most likely would be a part of the stage crew rather than an actor in the actual play. Looking around, I picked out the girls who would be the most competition . . . undoubtedly Kate would put up a fight, as would Claire Miller, Deirdre Weaver, Ashlee Baker, Dee Thacker, and Caitie Blackburn. There were a couple of girls whom I didn't recognize, therefore I was unable to gauge how much of a hindrance they would be to me getting the lead.  
  
_Hold on, Lizzie,_ I snapped to myself, shaking my head. Just the other day I'd been saying I _didn't_ want a lead. Apparently, something had changed that. Slowly, I looked to my left at Gordo, who was involved in an animated conversation with Miranda, and suddenly I knew what had changed my mind so quickly. I mentally kicked myself for it.  
  
Before I had any more time to scold myself any more, Mrs. Baxter walked onto the stage from the side, her high heels making clicking sounds as she walked. The band teacher, Mr. Hollifield, was behind her, pushing out a small piano with the help of some kid I didn't know. After Mr. Hollifield took a seat on the bench another kid had brought out for him, Mrs. Baxter faced us, a large smile on her face.  
  
"Good afternoon, kids," she said. "I'm so surprised that there is such a turnout this year! I'm sure our musical will turn out wonderfully." The woman paused for a moment and shuffled through her papers, then handed one, along with a pen, to a junior named Felicity Collier. "If you would, please write down your name, grade, and phone number in case I need to contact you. Also, write down which role you would like to have. Since there's a larger crowd than I anticipated, and since we only have the auditiorium for two hours before dance team practice, we're going to have to hurry through the audition process.  
  
"But before we begin, I'm going to announce the musical we are going to be putting on this year. I'm confident you've all seen the movie, and if not, you've at least heard about it. This year, we will be putting on _Moulin Rouge_!"  
  
When Mrs. Baxter's announcement was made, the auditorium practically erupted with excited chatter. I leaned over Gordo to squeal my approval to Miranda, who squealed back and squeezed my hands. The two of us had an infatuation with _Moulin Rouge_, and had occassionally fantasized about what it would be like to star in a stage production of it. Miranda and I found the story of Satine and Christian to be heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and loved every minute of the movie. Gordo, on the other hand, had found Christian to be sappy and had enjoyed every minute of the Duke's screen time.  
  
As Mrs. Baxter started speaking again, obviously thrilled that students were showing so much interest in the musical, I heard Gordo mutter under his breath, "Just wonderful." I couldn't resist tapping him on the shoulder and grinning widely at him. He just scowled at me in return.  
  
"All right, we're going to get this show on the road," Mrs. Baxter said after everyone had wrote their name on the sheet. She glanced at it, and then checked off a name. "We'll begin with auditions for the role of Satine. Mariah Roberts, could you please come up here and read from the script?"  
  
Auditions processed like that for a while. Unsurprisingly, most of the girls were auditioning for Satine. Everyone was pretty good with acting and singing, so when Mrs. Baxter called my name, not even the comforting looks from Miranda and Gordo helped to calm my nerves.  
  
I walked to the front and accepted the script from Mrs. Baxter, studied it for a moment, and then made my way onto the stage. When Mrs. Baxter signaled for me to go, I took a deep breath and began. "_I don't need you anymore! All my life you've made me believe I was only worth what someone would **pay** for me! But Christian loves me. He loves me, Harold. He **LOVES** me! And that is worth everything. We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge! Goodbye, Harold._"  
  
I stopped reading to look out at the audience and at Mrs. Baxter. I could see Miranda giving me a thumbs up, and Gordo was grinning. I was unable to read the look on Mrs. Baxter's face, and I decided to think that she was impressed with me.  
  
"That was very nice, Mrs. McGuire," she said after a moment. "Could you please sing the highlighted lines on this page?" She handed the music sheet to me, taking the script back and placing it in front of her.  
  
"_Want to vanish inside your kiss. Every day I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings? Come back to me and forgive everything! Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I love you . . . I love you till the end of time._" I stopped at the end of the yellow highlighter and Mrs. Baxter nodded at me. I was a little surprised that that was all I had to sing. Grinning, I rejoined Miranda and Gordo in the audience.  
  
Now all I had to do was wait.   
  
  
  


**A/N:** Just to have you all know, I had four 5-7 sentence paragraphs written after Miranda, Gordo, and Lizzie's IM conversation and that was going to be the entirety of this chapter, but when I got home from school to post it, I was hit with an overwhelming sense of guilt, and so I rewrote it to make it longer. You should thank me for that, lol!  
  
Once again, I'm just so happy that you all have read my fic and taken the time to respond! If you'd like to be notified of when I update, e-mail me at riflediva726@yahoo.com . . . please do not say so in a review, because then I may miss you when it comes time to send out an e-mail. Thanks.  
  
Oh, yes . . . I'm not sure if this has ever been done before in a LM fic (putting on _Moulin Rouge_) but I'm going to play it safe and say it's not my idea.  
  
By the way . . . in case you couldn't figure it out for some odd reason:  
  
Gordo18=Gordo  
OhNoIt'sDrama=Miranda  
xoLizzieox=Lizzie  



	3. Christian and Satine

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Once again, I'm more than ecstatic about the reviews I have received. You have no idea how wonderful it is to check my e-mail to find all these review alerts waiting for me! Maybe you might, but whatever . . . lol. I appreciate everyone's comments so much!  
  
_Note to **joe**: Hey! :) I appreciate the constructive criticism you offered me in your review, but I have to say that I disagree with your comment that my usages of "Miranda and me" and "Gordo and me" are incorrect. "Whoever and I" isn't always the correct form. However, I do agree with you very much about my comma issue (although you weren't too clear about whether I am using too many or not enough), because it's always been one of my weaker spots in English class. Thanks for taking the time to review and point out what I was doing wrong._  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrman.

  
  


Chapter Three:

  
  
After school the next day, Mrs. Baxter had Principal Williams announce that the cast had been chosen and for anyone who had auditioned to check the list she had posted in the back of the auditorium. Needless to say, when the dismissal bell rang, Miranda practically dragged Gordo and me to the auditorium, where there was already a crowd growing. She pushed us forward excitedly.  
  
"Miranda!" I said, laughing as I tucked some hair behind my ear. "You're more excited than we are!" I looked at Gordo, who nodded in affirmation.  
  
"Yeah, really," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "It doesn't really matter when you check the list, because the names aren't suddenly going to rearrange themselves."  
  
Miranda narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and then shook her head. "Whatever you say, Gordo." Then she turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "Lizzie, if you don't just go back there to see if you got Satine, then I think I'm going to bust a gut in anticipation!"  
  
I rolled my eyes at her. The truth was, I was probably just as excited about finding out which role I had been given, but I didn't want to look stupid in front of . . .  
  
I stopped myself. In front of who? Gordo?  
  
Quickly, I shook my head to rid myself of any thoughts, and then grabbed Gordo's shirt sleeve. "Come on, we wouldn't want Miranda to 'bust a gut'," I said. "I think I might feel guilty if we did."  
  
He grinned at me, and together we walked toward the list. Miranda sat in one of the seats, her knees pushed tightly together and her hands clasped. There were several kids still reading the list, while some had stalked off to the side, looking miserable. I assumed that they hadn't gotten the role they wanted, and felt sorry for them for a brief moment. Then, I continued making my way to the list, and jumped up and down for a minute when I saw the top two lines.  
  
**Satine:** _Lizzie McGuire_  
**Christian:** _David Gordon_  
  
Miranda must have taken my jumping up and down for getting to be Satine, and she dashed toward me, pulling both Gordo and me into a tight hug when she reached us. When she pulled away, she stated, "Oh, my Lizzie's gonna be a prostitute!" Turning to Gordo, she added, "And my Gordo's gonna be a penniless poet who falls in love with the prostitute!" She let out a loud, fake-sounding sob and buried her face in her hands. "I've never been more proud!"  
  
Gordo raised an eyebrow. "That's kind of scary, Miranda," he said honestly. "I guess it's a good thing you didn't audition for a part."  
  
Miranda shot Gordo a look and punched him softly on the arm. I laughed, shaking my head for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.  
  
The three of us stood there for a little while longer, chattering excitedly about the play with Miranda pretending to cry every few minutes. Finally, Gordo caught my attention and told me that there was a note to all of the actors and actresses in the play to see Mrs. Baxter for a script, so we all said our goodbyes. Miranda quickly left the building to get a ride home from her boyfriend, while Gordo and I went to the drama room.  
  
When we entered, Mrs. Baxter was seated at her desk, her glasses perched on her nose. She seemed to be very interested in reading whatever it was she was reading. "Hey, Mrs. Baxter," I said, getting her attention. When she looked up, I smiled at her. "Gordo and I came to get our scripts," I explained.   
  
"And to find out when our first rehearsal is," Gordo added.  
  
Mrs. Baxter dug through the piles and piles of papers on her desk, finally withdrawing two scripts. I could see the words _Moulin Rouge_ written on the covers. Smiling, Mrs. Baxter handed a copy to me and a copy to Gordo. "To answer your question, David," she started, "our first rehearsal is tomorrow from 3-5 after school. Tardiness will not be tolerated."  
  
"Thanks," Gordo said, flipping through the pages of the script. He looked at me and we headed for the door, but before we could exit, Mrs. Baxter stopped us.  
  
"David, Elizabeth," she said, taking off her glasses and setting them on her desk. "As I'm sure you know, this is a very romantic play, with the majority of the romance going on between Christian and Satine." She looked at us pointedly, staring straight into our eyes. "I know you've been friends for quite a while, and just wanted to make sure that your friendship would not make any . . . romantic scenes that you'd have to perform awkward."  
  
I looked at Gordo out of the corner of my eye, trying to see if he was uncomfortable. "I don't have any problems with it," I said. Quickly, I added, "That is, if Gordo doesn't care." I felt my cheeks heat up, and I struggled to control the blush that was threatening to spread across my face.  
  
Gordo's eyes met mine, and I quickly turned my head to study my nails. "No, I don't mind," he said. "We're just friends. Why should it matter?"  
  
I nodded. "Yeah. And we're seniors, so we can be mature about it."  
  
I thought I saw Mrs. Baxter's eyes flash with amusement for a brief second, but that look was quickly gone. "All right, I just wanted to make sure that you two were comfortable with your parts." She smiled warmly. "Why don't you head on home now?" she suggested.  
  
"All right," Gordo said, turning to walk out the door. "Do you need a ride home again, Lizzie?"  
  
"Yeah . . . thanks for offering." I followed him out the door, stopping to say a brief goodbye to Mrs. Baxter.  


**A/N:** *tear* I love you guys! Seriously . . . at first I was a bit apprehensive about posting anything of mine on here, because sometimes I tend to be sensitive, but I'm really glad I did. (Again, thank you Corrie!) You've all boosted my self-confidence up a bit.   
  
I think I got some of your all's hopes up with the slightly longer second chapter, but I'm sorry to say that this chapter is shorter than the second chapter, and I think a little shorter than the first, as well. Oops!  
  
Once again, if you'd like to be notified of when I update, e-mail me at riflediva726@yahoo.com . . . please do not say so in a review, because then I may miss you when it comes time to send out an e-mail. Thanks.  
  



	4. Kiss Her!

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** I don't have much to say up here, other than Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! It's a little late, but FanFiction.net was in read-only mode on Friday, so I didn't get to post then. :)  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann (thanks for the correction on his last name, Beth.).

  
  


Chapter Four:

  
  
Mrs. Baxter clapped her hands together to get everybody's attention at the start of rehearsal. It didn't take long for everyone to quiet down and look at her with interest. She smiled out at everyone. "All right, I'd just like to start off rehearsal by saying that I foresee this being the most successful musical Hill Ridge High has ever put on. However, it's not going to be easy to propel it to the number one spot; a lot of hard work and effort on your part will be required, and nothing less than the best will be accepted." After a brief pause, she continued, "Also, I'd like to say that while we are rehearsing, I would like for you to call me Alyssa; 'Mrs. Baxter' seems too formal for someone you're going to be spending a lot of time with. _But_," she added quickly, "you will refrain from calling me Alyssa in the classroom. Understood?" Her response was several heads nodding their agreement, and she happily took her seat. "All right . . . I suppose the best place to start is from the beginning. David, the play will be started off with you, so go on up to the stage and sit down with your legs crossed, looking depressed. Take your script as well."  
  
Gordo quickly did as he was told, sitting sitting himself down in the middle of the stage where a wooden crate with a typewriter on top was set. When Mrs. Baxter - er, Alyssa - pointed at him, he read off his lines. "_The Moulin Rouge . . . a nightclub, a dance hall and a bordello. Ruled over by Harold Zidler. A kingdom of nighttime pleasures. Where the rich and powerful come to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. And the most beautiful of all these was the woman I loved, Satine, a courtesan. She sold her love to men. They called her the "Sparkling Diamond", and she was the star . . . of the Moulin Rouge. The woman I loved is . . . dead._" At that, Gordo put on a very convincing sad face, looking almost like he was going to cry.  
  
Mrs. Baxter was beaming as she clapped. "Very nice, David! All right, Lucas -" she said, "you go stand offstage and I want you to yell your lines in an angry, booming voice." Lucas Donovan, who was the voice of Christian's father as well as the part of Zidler, did as he was told, and received loud clapping from Mrs. Baxter as well.  
  
The rest of rehearsal progressed much like the first few minutes had. Mrs. Baxter would instruct us what to do, and we would do it to the best of our ability, receiving either a smile or a frown from her. Before any of us knew it, our two hours were up and several members of the dance team came trouping in.  
  
As he had been doing for the past little while, Gordo gave me a ride home. We weren't able to get out the door, however, before Mrs. Baxter stopped us, looking extremely happy. "David, Lizzie!" she said, approaching us at a quick pace. "I just wanted to let you know that you two have wonderful chemistry on stage, and it's just going to make the play! People will really believe that you two are lovers . . ." The woman let out a dreamy sigh. "I just wanted to let you know that, kids." With that, she turned and bustled out of the auditorium.  
  
When she was gone, I looked at Gordo. He looked like he was struggling to hold back laughter, and when my eyes met his we both burst into giggles. It wasn't until several long minutes later that we managed to stop, with Gordo holding his stomach and me wiping a few tears from my eyes.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
That Saturday, Miranda and Gordo agreed that they would come over to my house so that Miranda could listen to Gordo and me as we read through our lines. Gordo had asked Mrs. Baxter for an extra script for Miranda, who would make up a voice to read the lines of characters who weren't Satine and Christian. My mom greeted them at the door when they arrived close to two, and they managed to get up to my room without an encounter with Matt, who was in his room with Melina and Lanny, working on some project. Thankfully, those three would be out of our hair while we rehearsed.  
  
Miranda was flipping through the script and stopped close to the end, a smile playing on her face. "Let's read this; page 25," she announced.  
  
Gordo and I turned to page 25, and Miranda told me to start off with my line. I took a breath to attempt to get into the distressed character of Satine, and then began, "_I couldn't . . . I couldn't go through with it. I saw you there and I felt terrible. I couldn't pretend - and the Duke, he saw. He saw! Christian, I love you._"  
  
Gordo looked up, a convincingly sad look on his face. "_It's okay,_" he said softly.  
  
I continued, "_And I couldn't do it! I didn't want to pretend anymore. I don't want to lie . . . and he knows! He saw! He knows . . ._"  
  
"_You're right. You don't have to pretend anymore. We'll leave; we'll leave tonight!_"  
  
"_Leave_?" I asked incredulously, like I couldn't believe my ears. "_But - what - the show_!"  
  
He stared at me for a brief moment and then spoke his next lines clearly, with finality. "_I don't care! I don't care about the show._" Gordo's voice got a little bit louder, and he finished, "_We love each other, and that's all that matters!_"  
  
Slowly, I said, "_Yes. Yes, as long as we have each other._"  
  
Gordo turned to Miranda, whose facial expression had been growing increasingly more somber throughout Gordo's and my lines. "_Chocolat, take Ms. Satine to her dressing room to get the things she needs. No one must see you, you understand?_"  
  
In a ridiculously deep, silly voice, Miranda said, "_I understand._" It took all I had not to laugh, and judging by the look on Gordo's face, he was having difficulty as well. Miranda looked very proud of herself.  
  
Maintaining his composure, Gordo finished, "_Darling, you go and pack. And I'll be waiting._"  
  
After Gordo and I read the stage directions following Gordo's line, I could almost feel the tension in the air mount. I looked over at Miranda; she was grinning widely - a huge, mischevious grin, and I knew why she had picked that particular part for us to read.  
  
The silence seemed to stretch on forever before Miranda finally broke it. "Go on, Gordo, kiss her." If it was possible, her grin got larger.  
  
Gordo cleared his throat. "Well, we have all this time to - er - practice our kisses later . . . so why don't we just move on to another scene?" he suggested uncomfortably.  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes irritably, not even bothering to try to hide it. "Please, could you two possibly act anymore like third-graders? You're friends, and should be able to kiss in a play without getting all shy about it. So - go!" She pointed her finger at us, and I looked at Gordo, who was looking at me.  
  
"Well," I started.  
  
"We might as well go ahead," Gordo said, cutting in.  
  
"Because we're going to have to sooner or later," I added.  
  
Gordo nodded in agreement. As he leaned forward, the phrase "butterflies in my stomach" could not even begin to describe the stampeding elephants in my stomach. I had no idea why I was so nervous about a little kiss. Suddenly, that annoying voice in my head popped up and said, _Yeah, ya do! You like Gordo, you like Gordo, you like Gordo!_  
  
Before I was ready for it, I felt Gordo's lips touch mine in a chaste kiss that lasted for no more than two seconds. Then he pulled away, and I felt my cheeks heat up. If the redness on Gordo's face was any indication of how red I was, then my face must have been the color of a cherry.  
  
Miranda didn't look too happy, though she was wearing a pleased look on her face. "Well, I'm sure that Satine and Christian would have kissed a little more passionately, but I guess that'll come with more practice," she said.  
  
I glared at her. "I have to talk to you later, Miranda," I snapped, and was given an innocent smile in return. Groaning a little, I closed my script and set it on my bed. "I want some milk. Do either of you want anything?" I asked, being the hospitable hostess.  
  
After taking a mental note that Miranda wanted a glass of water and Gordo wanted a Coke, I excused myself from my bedroom to head for the kitchen.   
  


**A/N:** Oh, look, there was some semi-fluffy Gordo/Lizzie action in this chapter! Woo! Just to inform you, sometimes I can be a very fluff-loving person, so if anything gets too sickeningly sweet, let me know, lol! As always, I greatly appreciate your reviews! 


	5. Nini v Satine v Miranda

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Thanks everyone for all of the reviews! It's great to know that people like what I write.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Five:

  
  
"McGuire." The voice, which was shrill and arrogant, clearly gave away who had approached me.  
  
I rolled my eyes and shut my locker door. When I turned around to face Kate Sanders, who had her hands on her hips and a nasty look on her face, I put on my sweetest smile. "Yes, Kate?" I asked.  
  
She let out an angry noise. "Listen, McGuire, you _know_ that I _always_ get the lead female part in, like, _all_ of the musicals!" Kate exclaimed.  
  
I checked the watch on my wrist impatiently. "Do you have a point, Kate, or are you just taking up my time for no reason?" I questioned. I knew her "point": she wanted to be Satine, and she was going to try to get me to give up my part in the play. I'd long ago grown out of being intimidated by her whiny demands, however, and was not going to give up my part.  
  
"My point is, I want to be Satine!" Kate snapped, stating word-for-word what I had been thinking. She crossed her arms over her chest. "All we have to do is go to Mrs. Baxter and tell her that you don't feel comfortable with such a large part . . . then she'll give me your part, and you mine!"  
  
The laugh threatening to escape was very hard to contain. Kate's words obviously gave away the fact that she expected me to agree with her instantly. Yeah, right. "Kate, I don't want to be Nini," I said. I decided to start walking away, in hopes that Kate would give up in her attempts.  
  
She followed me. "But I don't want to be Nini, either!" she said. "McGuire, you either tell Mrs. Baxter that you're handing the part of Satine over to me, or be prepared to face hell."  
  
"Oh no, I'm so terrified," I said, shaking my head. Kate's empty threats had no effect on me. I pushed some hair behind my ear and made my way to the front double doors. I could see Miranda and Gordo standing by Gordo's car, waiting for me; we were going to the mall to do a little shopping before going to play practice, which had been moved from right after school to the time slot of six to eight. Apparently, the dance team had not appreciated us getting the auditorium before them, and had complain to Principal Williams.  
  
Before I could exit the building, Kate grabbed my arm. "You should be, McGuire. I've got friends who really dislike you, you know."  
  
I pulled my arm away from her. "So do I, you know," I snapped in response. "I'm not scared of you, Kate, or any of your friends. Give it up, because I refuse to allow you to bully me into giving you my part!"  
  
"You'll be sorry, McGuire," she called after me as I headed out of the school.  
  
I looked back at Kate, who was fuming. "The whole elementary school 'you'll be sorry' threats don't scare me, Kate," I said, laughing. Then I turned and continued the rest of the way to Gordo's car.  
  
When I got there, Miranda and Gordo were both looking at me with interest evident in their eyes. Gordo raised an eyebrow in question. "What was that all about?" he asked, opening the back door and gesturing for Miranda to climb in. Then he opened the passenger side door and allowed me to get in, running over to his side when the door was shut again.  
  
"Apparently her poor ego has been bruised since she didn't get Satine and I did," I informed them. "Nini isn't good enough for a Sanders." I rolled my eyes. "She was trying to scare me into telling Mrs. Baxter that I was giving up Satine to her."  
  
I could see the look of surprise on Miranda's face in the sideview mirror. "That would ruin everything!" she exclaimed, disbelieving. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, as if she had said something she shouldn't have.  
  
I turned around in my seat. "What did you say?" I demanded, suspicion arising within me. How would Kate getting the role of Satine "ruin everything" as Miranda had put it? I stole a glance at Gordo, who, even though his eyes were focused on the road, looked bewildered as well.  
  
Miranda tried to cover up her tracks. "Uh - it'll ruin . . . the play! Yes, that's it! The play would be ruined if Kate was Satine because she doesn't have a - satin-y voice like you!" she exclaimed, fidgeting nervously. When she finished, Miranda seemed quite proud of herself.  
  
I didn't belive a word she just said, but Gordo did. "Well, that probably would ruin the play," he said. I could almost hear Miranda breathe a sigh of relief.  
  
I glared at him, and then at Miranda. "You meant something by that, Miranda Sanchez," I accused. "And I'll find out what it is, too!"  
  
Miranda laughed. "You're paranoid, Lizzie. I told you what I meant by what I said," she replied. When I turned to look at her once again, she flashed me an innocent, wide smile. I could see her eyes sparkling with deceit, though, so I knew not to fall for the angelic exterior Miranda was putting up. Miranda was not angelic.  
  
  
  


**A/N:** Hm. I'm a little unsure about this chapter . . . I don't know if Kate seemed too juvenile at the beginning or what. But, some things have been established: Kate is jealous of Lizzie getting the part of Satine, and Miranda knows something going on with the play that Gordo and Lizzie don't.   
  
I feel guilty since this is on the short side. Sorry; hope you will forgive me! 


	6. Miranda's Favor

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** No school today because of flooding and the snow we got last night, so I thought I'd go ahead and update again. I have nothing better to do, anyway, lol. As always, thanks for the reviews.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Six:

  
  
I was lying on my bed, reading my horoscope in the latest issue of Teen Girl when the door to my bedroom was flung open and Miranda came running inside. She jumped on my bed beside of me, making me bounce up and down for a moment before I dropped my magazine. "Lizzie, you have got to do me a favor!" she said urgently, forcing me to sit up with her.  
  
I gave Miranda a funny look. "And what exactly would this 'favor' be?" I questioned, a little apprehensive about saying yes before knowing what she wanted me to do. From many years of experience, I knew that could be a bad thing, especially when dealing with favors for Miranda.  
  
"You're going to hate me for this, I just know it, but you've got to consider doing it for me because if you don't then Dustin will get pissed at me, and the last time he got pissed at me, we didn't talk for almost two weeks and we almost broke up and I just don't want that to happen again! So, please, Lizzie, just do this one, little, tiny favor for me!" When Miranda finished, she was out of breath.  
  
For a moment, I just sat there, trying to comprehend _what_ Miranda had just said. She had talked so fast, running her words together, that it was hard to distinguish what she was saying. Out of all of that, I had been able to understand that Dustin would be mad at her for some reason or another, and she didn't want him to be.  
  
"I'm going to say this one time, and one time only," I announced, watching as Miranda's eyebrows rose in anticipation. "_What?_" I asked finally, after a short pause. Her face fell.  
  
"Lizzie, this is no time for joking," Miranda said, her voice taking on a whiny quality. She looked ready to cry. "I would do it for you!"  
  
I held up my hand in a signal for her to stop talking, which she did. "Miranda!" I exclaimed in exasperation. "If you would just listen to yourself, then you would know that it was nearly impossible for me to understand what the hell you want me to do. So, explain."  
  
Before she could begin rambling incoherently again, I added, "Slowly and calmly, please."  
  
Miranda took a deep breath and pushed some hair, which was falling from her clips, behind her ear. "Okay," she started, "Dustin and I have a date tomorrow night. He told me a while ago that his cousin was coming in and that he couldn't leave him alone, so he was going to cancel our date and just make plans for the three of us - me, him, and his cousin - to stay in and watch a movie at Dustin's house. Well, me being Miranda and all, I really wanted to go on this date, so I told Dustin that it would be no problem to find a girl for his cousin to go with, and we could make it a double date!" Suddenly, she stopped and looked at me.  
  
When Miranda said nothing else, I raised my eyebrows. "What? I see no problem, and no need for me to do you a favor," I said, confused. To me, it sounded like Miranda had the situation perfectly under control.  
  
"Well . . ." Miranda's voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. "You see, Lizzie, that's not the problem."  
  
I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. "Miranda Sanchez, what exactly is the problem?" I demanded.  
  
She laughed nervously. Changing the subject, she joked, "That's the second time in the past three days that you've used my full name." A small smile formed on her face. "Wow, I think that's a record."  
  
"Miranda," I said again, "what exactly is the problem?"  
  
As Miranda always was when she had something big to ask me, she was visibly nervous. "The problem is, I _completely_ forgot about finding Dustin's cousin a date," she said. Hurriedly, she continued, "I mean, these past few weeks have been hectic, helping you and Gordo with the play and all, and it just slipped my mind!"  
  
I knew what was coming next before the words were even out of Miranda's mouth, so I instantly began to turn her down. "Uh-uh, no way! I am _not_ going to go out with Dustin's cousin! Blind dates are not fun," I said. I stood up from my bed and walked across the room, as if distancing myself from her would help anything.  
  
"Neither is a dead girlfriend," Miranda replied. "Lizzie, please? You're my best friend . . ."  
  
I groaned and forced myself to stop looking at Miranda's pitiful puppy-dog eyes. The "you're my best friend" combined with her puppy-dog eyes always did me in. I couldn't stand them.  
  
"Lizzie," she said again, "please? I would do it for you."  
  
After a few more minutes of that, I caved. I couldn't help it; Miranda was a very convincing person, and one could rarely ever say "no" to her. That was something else I had learned from experience, so I had no idea why I'd tried to deny her in the first place.  
  
Miranda lunged at me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "Oh, Lizzie, you're the best friend I've ever had!" She pulled away and looked at me happily. "I owe you big for this."  
  
"Yes you do," I muttered under my breath as Miranda began to happily fill me in on the details of Dustin's cousin.   
  


**A/N:** I think I made the magazine Lizzie was reading (Teen Girl) up, but I'm not entirely sure, lol. To be on the safe side, it doesn't belong to me, but to whoever created it. I don't read magazines often, and when I do it's Seventeen.  
  
Anyway, in this chapter was just a little bit of something that didn't focus around the play, because I'm sure other things would be going on in their lives aside from rehearsals and whatnot. But, the play _is_ the focal point of this fic, so it will return within the next two or so chapters!  
  



	7. Getting Ready

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Keep 'em coming!  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Seven:

  
  
The next day, which was a Friday, passed by rather uneventfully. Before I knew it, I was driving Miranda and myself - Dad had returned to town a few days earlier, giving me my car back - to the Sanchezes' house to start getting ready for our dates. I was still being a little uncooperative with Miranda, but she was just glad I'd agreed to go with Dustin's cousin - I'd found out his name was Andrew.  
  
"Dustin said that Andrew's really nervous about the date, too," Miranda was saying as she looked through the clothes in her closet. I had just shown her what I had planned on wearing, and she'd instantly said it wasn't dressy enough.  
  
"I'm not nervous," I replied, catching a black skirt that Miranda tossed to me. I held it up to my body and wrinkled my nose before tossing it back to her. "I'm just not jumping for joy that I finally have the chance to go on a blind date. So sue me."  
  
Miranda stopped rifling through her clothes long enough to stare at me in a reprimanding manner. "Lizzie, if you act like that around poor Andrew, he'll probably be scared to death!"  
  
I could just _feel_ my nastier side coming out with each "oh, pity Andrew" word that Miranda was speaking. Normally, I'm not a nasty person, but Miranda could always bring my unpleasant characteristics out. "Sounds like a pansy to me, Miranda," I replied pointedly.  
  
"Lizzie, I'm serious - please be nice to him," Miranda begged. "When I told Dustin that you were going to be Andrew's date, he was so relieved because he knows that you're 'such a nice girl.' And I'm quoting him on that," she added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
I sighed. As much as I hated this idea, I had agreed to it. Miranda had bailed me out of many situations in our high school career, so I figured I at least owed that to her. "All right," I agreed finally. "I'll behave myself."  
  
Miranda beamed. "That's a good Lizzie!" she exclaimed, flashing me a bright smile before turning back and beginning to dig in her closet again. Then, suddenly, she stopped and turned back toward me, a worried look on her face. "Lizzie?"  
  
I stopped looking through Miranda's CD case to look up at her. "Yeah?"  
  
"What about Gordo?"  
  
Her question struck me as odd and I started laughing. Through my giggles, I managed to ask, "What about Gordo?" Why in the world was Miranda worrying about Gordo when she had a date with Dustin later that night? Usually when she had dates, they were the only thing on her mind for weeks prior to it.  
  
She gave me an urgent look. "What's he doing tonight? Weren't you supposed to rehearse together?"  
  
I gave Miranda a look and placed her CD case back onto her desk, where I'd picked it up from, and then walked to her bookshelf to look at the little odds and ends she had collected over the years. Though I had been in her room millions of time during the course of our friendship, the little knick-knacks she had never failed to catch my attention. "We were supposed to," I said, a little unsure of where she was going with this, "but I called to tell him that something came up." I had; I hadn't told him that I was going on a date with Miranda's boyfriend's cousin, though, for some unexplainable reason. I just hadn't been able to convince myself to say the words, "I have a date". It was weird, and a little unsettling.  
  
"And what did he say?" Miranda prodded, still looking worried.  
  
"I don't know why it's such a big deal, but he said 'okay' and that he would make other plans." I paused. "If you're worried about him feeling left out, he _does_ have other friends he could do something with. Shawn Dotson is Toulouse, so they'll probably get together and run their lines . . ." Shawn Dotson was a guy who had moved from Tucson, Arizona, to Hill Ridge when we were sophomores. He and Gordo, both of them being smart guys, had Chemistry together and they had been friends ever since. Gordo still spent most of his time with Miranda and me, obviously, but he and Shawn were okay friends, too.  
  
That worried look never left Miranda's face, however. "All right," she said with a sigh, satisfied with my answer.  
  
When she turned her back, I muttered under my breath, "Okay," and then went back to looking through her things.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
Four hours, lots of junkfood, and several Cokes later, it was seven o'clock. Miranda had picked out my outfit - a simple light rose-colored off the shoulder peasant blouse and knee-length denim skirt - and we'd done our make-up to our liking. Dustin and Andrew weren't supposed to pick us up until seven-thirty, and since we had known that, we had taken our time with getting ready.  
  
"So, what's Andrew like?" I asked, interested. Asking her that question was my way of not-so-subtly checking up on him to make sure he wasn't a total jerk.  
  
For a moment, Miranda looked a bit guilty. "Actually--"  
  
I cut her off and stared at her. "You've never met him or talked to him, have you?" I demanded, knowing Miranda all too well. "So he could be a psychopathic killer guy who is wanted for rape in 49 states!"  
  
"I think Dustin would have told me about that if it were true," Miranda said, not doing well to conceal a grin. "Lizzie, calm down. I wouldn't let you go out with a murderer/rapist."  
  
I sighed. "Somehow that doesn't comfort me . . ." I was about to ask her another question, but the ringing doorbell interrupted me, and Miranda grinned before standing up and straightening out her skirt.  
  
"Are you ready?" she asked, looking behind her in the mirror and fixing her hair. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her to the front door.   
  


**A/N:** Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter . . . I have been kind of busy. We changed our weapons work and I've been working my arse off outside of practice so I could get this behind the back toss in the sabre work--I've got it now, so that's a good thing! I have a competition this Saturday (March 1) so we've all been putting forth a lot of effort to be ready for it. Since I got out of school at 10 because of snow, I thought I'd do a little catching up on this fic.  
  
Please check out my newest LM fic, _Old, New, Borrowed, Blue_ and don't forget to leave a review!  
  
The next chapter will have the actual date in it, and we should be getting back to some play and Lizzie/Gordo action in the ninth chapter! 


	8. But He's Not Gordo

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Hey you guys! It's been a while, and I am SO SORRY for the delay in this chapter, but I have been so busy. Algebra 2 is about killing me, we've been practicing extra in winterguard to get ready for circuit championships this upcoming weekend, plus I have had family issues. I'm hoping that I will be able to get the next chapter out quicker than I got this one out, but I can't make promises; my life is so unpredictable! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, and thanks a billion for being patient with me! Before I let you get to the chapter, I just want to announce that chapter 2 of _Old, New, Borrowed, Blue_ will be up tomorrow or the day after, possibly even today if I can finish it. :) And on a final note, I decided to NOT include the date in this chapter, but instead give you the general idea of what happened using Lizzie's thoughts and bits of dialogue.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Eight:

  
  
Miranda and I returned to my house after our double date, which had fallen just short of the honor of being called a disaster. At least, that was my opinion; Miranda thought everything had gone wonderfully, and had even hinted at the possibility of Andrew and me continuing dating. When she had mentioned this, I merely stayed quiet, and Miranda had moved on to another topic, thankfully.  
  
When we walked through my front door with Miranda carrying her overnight bag and her favorite pillow, we found my mom in the living room. Dad was there as well, but he was lying on the couch, asleep, with his head in Mom's lap. Mom was watching some black and white show on TV, but she looked up when she heard us walk in.  
  
"Hey girls," she greeted us in a whisper, presumably so she wouldn't wake up Dad.  
  
"Hey, Mom," I replied at the same time Miranda said, "Hey, Mrs. McGuire." I returned the smile Mom was giving me. "Miranda's sleeping over tonight. Is that okay?" I asked, knowing it would be. Mom loved Miranda like another daughter, just like she loved Gordo like another son.  
  
Suddenly, my mind returned to what--or whom, really--I had been thinking about practically nonstop all night. Gordo. Perhaps that was what had caused my date with Andrew not to be particularly fulfilling. I didn't know. All I knew was that while I was sitting at the table in the restaurant, I would look at Andrew, or think about Andrew, and compare him to Gordo. _Well, Andrew's hair is tamer than Gordo's . . . but Gordo's just suits him. Andrew's taller than Gordo . . . but Gordo doesn't tower over me like Andrew does; Gordo's height is just right. Andrew seems to be more muscular than Gordo . . . but Gordo can act, and he has a great singing voice; and it's not like Gordo's scrawny._  
  
It was weird--really weird. I knew I shouldn't have been comparing the two of them for many reasons; for one thing, I had just met Andrew, but I'd known Gordo my whole life, so the comparison wasn't exactly fair to Andrew. I had realized that in the middle of one of my comparisons, but had just kept doing the same throughout our entire date, including while we watched the movie _The Ring_ at Dustin's house when Andrew seemed to be trying too hard to play it cool; Gordo would have been hiding his eyes at the gruesome shots just like I was, but Andrew just held me tighter in his arms. And I didn't like it.  
  
Mom's voice jolted me back to reality. "Lizzie? I said it was okay," she said. Mom's face was holding a worried expression, probably because I had spaced out for a few moments. Miranda was giving me a weird look.  
  
"Oh, thanks, Mom," I returned. Then I faked a yawn, raising my hands over my head to stretch, in an attempt to be excused to my room. Otherwise, Mom would have kept Miranda and me downstairs to talk about our evening. "I guess we better turn in. I'm exhausted." As if to prove my point, I yawned again.  
  
At first, Mom looked confused and she checked her watch. "It's only ten, Lizzie," she said. "But I guess all the fun you had on your date just wore you out. Goodnight, honey."  
  
I nodded and walked across the room to peck her on the cheek. "Night, Mom," I said as I exited the room. Miranda raised her hand in a wave and we practically stampeded up the stairs.  
  
When I shut the door to my room behind me, Miranda settled herself down onto my bed and fixed me with an expectant look. "Spill," she said simply.  
  
I did my best to feign confusion, but I realized that it wasn't working when Miranda's eyes never left my own. With a small sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, belly-first, and buried my face in my comforter. I looked up long enough to state, "There's nothing to talk about, Miranda."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Right, and you _didn't_ act like a total jerk to Andrew tonight," Miranda snapped, her words loaded with sarcasm. "Lizzie, I know something's going on and if we're best friends, you should be able to talk to me about it!"  
  
At first, I was tongue tied. "I--He . . ." Finally, I took a deep breath. "Andrew is a really nice guy and I'd love to be friends with him, but that's all he'll ever be to me. My friend," I stated simply.  
  
"Your friend?" Miranda asked, astounded. "But I thought you two hit it off so well! I even saw a kiss!" She winked at me.  
  
I sighed. How could I explain my feelings to Miranda without sounded like a complete moron? "I--I just don't like him. When he kissed me, I didn't feel anything, you know? It was like . . . Matt kissing me. I mean, he's cute, and funny, and has a great personality, but . . ." I couldn't find the words to finish what I was trying to say. To tell the truth, I didn't even know what I was trying to say!  
  
Apparently, Miranda did. "But he's not Gordo," she said slyly, grinning at me.  
  
I pretended to be shocked, but deep down I knew that she was right. I had once liked Gordo when we were in junior high and I swore that he liked me back, but nothing had ever come of that and we'd just stayed friends. For the longest time during my high school career, that was what I thought him to be, but some time in the past year, my feelings for him returned to the more than just friends variety. I hadn't admitted that to myself, let alone another person, until that night.  
  
I could feel myself blushing. "Miranda, being totally in love with one of your best friends cannot be a good thing . . . especially when nothing came of it when you were totally in love with him a few years earlier," I complained. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to forget about Gordo and fall deeply in love with Andrew.  
  
"But it would be much worse if the best friend you were in love with was me, wouldn't it?" Miranda asked, her eyes glistening as she tried to add a little humor in to our conversation. I glared at her, telling her I was not amused. "All right, all right!" she exclaimed. "The first step to dating your best friend is admitting that you like him, which I'm so proud to say you've done."  
  
I groaned. Suddenly I had a pounding headache. "Listen, Miranda . . . I know you're just dying to play matchmaker with us, but please stay out of it. Gordo doesn't like me like that and it would be super embarrassing for for all parties involved if he found out I liked him. Please?" I was practically begging.  
  
"Ugh, fine," Miranda said finally. "But when Gordo finally finds someone who will admit that she likes him instead of hiding from her feelings, don't come crying to me about it."  
  
"Fine, I won't!" I snapped, feeling a surge of anger at Miranda rise in me. "Goodnight!" I flipped off the light and climbed under my covers on the right side of the bed while Miranda climbed under the covers on the left side, as far away from me as she could get.   
  


**A/N:** Woo, so there's chapter 8! Once again, so sorry for the delay! I hope you all will forgive me. Please write a review. :) Also, be looking out for chapter 2 of _Old, New, Borrowed, Blue_. 


	9. Motherly Advice

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** I'm so tired right now, but I'm trying to keep my promise of updating quicker! Here's chapter 9!  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Nine:

  
  
"Mom, I hate my life," I complained in a whiny voice when I walked into the kitchen the next morning. Miranda had left earlier than she would have if we hadn't had our mini-fight the night before, but I was glad that she was gone; I was not in the mood to hear any of her theories about what was going on with Gordo and me. _I_ didn't even have any theories about us, and I didn't need an outside source to confuse me anymore.  
  
There was a small smile on Mom's face and I could tell she was doing her best not to let it turn into an even bigger smile. "Don't you think you're exaggerating a little, Lizzie?" she asked, placing a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk in front of me. "I'm sure things aren't so bad that you hate your life."  
  
Through a bite of my grilled cheese, I mumbled, "Okay, so I don't hate it, but it's not making me jump for joy right now, either." I swallowed, then took a drink of milk. "Things are so complicated."  
  
Mom sat down beside of me. "Care to explain, or are you going to leave your uncool mother out in the dark?"  
  
"Mo-om," I groaned, "I never said you weren't cool. Just motherly. Which isn't a bad thing," I added quickly, so she couldn't misinterpret what I was saying. She seemed to do that a lot, and that's where her "uncool mother" statement originated from. I sighed, and launched into a long explanation of everything that was going on at the moment . . . Miranda, the play, even Gordo, which I discovered was a mistake.  
  
"I knew it!" Mom screeched once I stated that I was beginning to develop feelings for Gordo. "The day you two started crawling around the house together I just knew you'd become something more to each other! I was beginning to lose hope, though, after your failure to admit your feelings to each other in junior high."  
  
I sat there for a moment, not fully comprehending what she was saying. And then it dawned on me: she knew _everything_ all along. Jo McGuire, the Omnipotent Being would have to be her knew title, I supposed.  
  
"If you knew this, how come you never mentioned it to me?" I demanded, growing angry. I figured that her intervention would have saved Gordo and me a hell of a lot of trouble.  
  
"Honey, you wouldn't have believed me. I was a teenager with a crush once too, you know," she replied gently, taking my hand. "I have some advice for you, if you want to hear it." Silent, I nodded at her to continue. "The only way you're ever going to work things out is to talk to Gordo about it. Don't hide behind that 'we're only friends' facade. You'll both regret it when one of you moves on."  
  
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, Mom was right. At some point in the past few years, my view of Mom had changed from her being the most annoying parent in California to her being the wisest woman on the planet.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
**xoLizzieox:** Hey, Gordo . . . I think we need to talk.  
**xoLizzieox:** Gordo, I know you're there. Talk to me!  
**Gordo18:** I'm really busy right now, Lizzie. Can we talk later?  
**xoLizzieox:** Gordo, it's really important.  
**Gordo18:** If it's not a life or death situation, I'm sure it can wait.  
**xoLizzieox:** What's the matter?  
**xoLizzieox:** What's wrong?!  
**xoLizzieox:** GORDO!?  
**Gordo18:** What makes you think something is wrong? I'm just doing my homework. Nothing special.  
**Gordo18:** But I really need to finish this.  
**Gordo18:** So can we talk later?  
**xoLizzieox:** . . . Sure.  
**xoLizzieox:** If you really think that homework is more important than us talking over something very important.  
**Gordo18:** Thanks, Lizzie.  
  
**Gordo18 signed off at 6:13 p.m.**  
  
I stared at my computer screen for a long moment, blinking back tears. What had just happened? Gordo had totally snubbed me, and had essentially said that I didn't mean very much to him! His words hurt me beyond belief, but I couldn't help but wonder why he was saying such things! It just wasn't very Gordo-like, because Gordo was not a very hateful person . . . especially not to me.  
  
As the tears began to fall down my cheeks, I clicked the X at the top right of the IM box. I just didn't understand why he was being so cold. Moving ever-so-slowly, I shut down my computer, walked in the bathroom to brush my teeth, turned off the light, and got into bed.  
  
I had a very difficult time falling asleep that night, due to the uneasy and empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. For some reason, I felt like I had done something to make Gordo mad at me, yet I couldn't figure out what it was. As I mulled over that, I drifted off to a restless sleep and into a conflicted dream.   
  


**A/N:** This chapter is a wee bit shorter than normal, but it's out quicker than normal. :) I couldn't stretch it any further. I promise the next chapter will be longer, and we will finally be back to some play rehearsing--plus, Lizzie will find out why Gordo acted the way he did on the Internet.  
  
Before I forget, I just thought I'd say that I believe this story is going to end in a few more chapters. I don't know how many a few more will be, but I am desperately trying to wrap it up in under 20, which I think I can get done. I really don't want to go more than 15, but if I have to, I have to. Now, I'm not a very organized person, so I don't outline my stories--if I did, it would never get finished because I like trying to stick in little things or whatever that aren't in my outline, and sometimes the little things can mess up your plot. Once I finish, I plan on writing out a massive response to the reviews I have received. :) That is all. 


	10. Best Friends

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Again, I'm keeping my promise of updating quicker! Go me! AND this chapter is longer than all the others, so be proud of me. I got a lot accomplished today.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Ten:

  
  
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!  
  
The incessant ringing of my alarm clock woke me up bright and early that Monday morning. I groaned as I rolled over onto my side in an attempt to avoid the bright sunlight that was flooding in through my shades, which Mom had undoubtedly raised when she first got up that morning. It seemed like the night had just flown by and I most definitely hadn't gotten my required eight hours of sleep; it was more like four due to the many thoughts plaguing my head, and I was barely functioning. I knew Mom would be in my room in less than a minute to pull me away from the warmth of my bed, so I closed my eyes and tried to savour the last few moments of precious sleep as I counted down to her arrival . . . 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 . . .  
  
Just on time, my bedroom door flew open and Mom stepped inside. She was wearing a bright, cheerful smile. "Morning, Lizzie!" she said. "Time to get up."  
  
I groaned again and buried my face into my pillow to avoid Mom. Mornings were not my thing and it always seemed that Mom enjoyed making me wake up from my deep slumber, especially on mornings that I wanted nothing more than to spend just five more minutes being surrounded by the warmth of my bed. This morning was one of those because of my lack of sleep during the night, but I knew Mom was going to have none of it.  
  
I felt a rush of cool air hit my bare legs as Mom pulled the covers from my body and tossed them to the floor. "Get up, Lizzie," she said again, her voice taking on the warning tone it got when she meant business.  
  
Still groaning, I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. A flood of sunlight hit me directly in my eyes and I struggled to keep them open. I stuck my feet into my fuzzy black slippers. As I walked over to my chest of drawers, which was beside of the door, Mom followed close behind me and watched as I dug to find my favorite nude-colored bra and hot pink panties. When I found them, I walked to my closet to pick out my outfit for the day.  
  
As I did all of this, Mom asked, "Do you have play practice after school, Lizzie?"  
  
I thought for a moment. It was Monday . . . we usually had practice on Mondays, didn't we? I wasn't entirely sure because I had never really kept track. After thinking for a few more minutes, I came up with my answer. "Yeah, I do. Opening night is next Saturday, so Mrs. Baxter is really pushing to get us ready."  
  
Mom nodded. "Just making sure. Matt left to go to school early with Melina so they could put the finishing touches on their project; I'll call up to the school later to tell them to send Matt a message that he needs to get a ride home with her, too."  
  
"Thanks." I smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to take a shower. If Miranda gets here before I'm out, tell her I'll be ready in like five minutes."  
  
"All right," Mom agreed. "Hurry up, though; you're running late." I heard the door close and knew she was gone.  
  
It didn't take me much longer to pick out a pair of straight-legged jeans that I had cut an upwards slit in at the bottom in order to make them not straight-legged and a plain pale blue tank top that I had found on sale at the mall last week. When I had my clothes and underwear, I walked to my bathroom and stopped at the cabinet just inside the door to get two towels and a washcloth. I started the water and let it run for a few minutes before stepping into the shower. The water was just shy of hot, the way I liked it, and felt good as it ran down my body. After I washed myself with my Caress shower gel and washed my hair, I shut off the water then climbed out, wrapping one of my towels around my body. I used the other to dry my hair, and then got dressed rather quickly. I blow-dried my hair, applied my usual make-up (concealer, no-shine powder, a little bit of blush, a thin coat of eyeliner on the top and bottom, and a slightly pink-tinted lip gloss), and brushed my teeth, then I exited the bathroom and slipped my feet into my comfortable white canvas slip-on shoes. After getting my books and my black shoulder bag that served as my purse, I walked out of my room and shut the door behind me.  
  
When I walked into the kitchen, Mom was pouring milk into a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. He looked up when I entered and smiled briefly at me, said, "Morning, Lizzie," and then went back to whatever he was reading in the paper. I took a seat at the island and Mom placed the bowl of cereal in front of me. Just as I was about to take a bite, a horn honked from outside and without having to even think about it, I knew it was Miranda. With a last look in the general direction of my cereal, I sighed, bade goodbye to my parents, and joined Miranda in her car.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
"Why don't you just talk to him about it?" Miranda questioned. It was during our "independent study" class that Miranda and I had decided to head to the mall to buy strawberry smoothies, and we were seated at a small table in the center of the food court. I had just explained the ordeal with Gordo, including what had happened while we were on the Internet the night before. "I mean, you like him, he likes you, he's probably having just as many issues right now as you are and things will never get solved if you don't talk them through."  
  
Miranda had a point, but I didn't want to admit it. "He doesn't like me though! We've been through this a hundred times."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, you are driving me absolutely bonkers with this whole thing! I am _so_ glad I was not here to witness your encounters with Gordo in junior high, because I probably would have pushed both of you off the nearest bridge! Talk to him, it's not that hard of a concept." She punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp of her smoothie.  
  
I groaned and twirled the straw around in my smoothie before taking a small drink. It felt good in my throat. "He was fine the other day, and then after that he started ignoring me. I don't know what I did."  
  
Miranda looked deep in thought and she scrunched her eyebrows together as she concentrated. "Okay, when did he start acting weird?"  
  
"Like Thursday or Friday . . ." I wasn't seeing where Miranda was going with this, mostly because I had already back tracked to see if I had done anything to piss Gordo off; I hadn't.  
  
After a very long pause, Miranda let out a small noise. "What?" I demanded anxiously, leaning over the table to get closer to her. "Did I do something?"  
  
She looked uneasy for a second. "I feel like this is all my fault . . ." she stated, letting her voice trail off. Before I could say anything else, Miranda continued, "I think I might have figured out what the problem is, but I don't want to say anything in case I'm wrong. Just talk to him about it and clear everything up, and I'm sure everything will work out! If it's meant to be, it will."  
  
I sighed. Miranda was making absolutely no sense--not that she usually did, but it was worse than normal. She was being cryptic with her messages, and I hated that. "Miranda, just tell me. Please?"  
  
She looked conflicted as she bit her lip. Letting out a small breath of air, Miranda replied, "I really want to, but I don't want to say anything that's not true. I mean, what I am thinking is purely speculation. _Talk to him_."  
  
I was getting ready to protest, but Miranda looked up from checking her watch and announced, "Oops, ten minutes until block three starts! We better get going!"  
  
Reluctantly, I followed her out of the mall, trashing the remainder of my smoothie in the trashcan by the front door.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
Later that afternoon, after the final bell rang, Miranda stood by me at my locker as I got the things I would need to take home with me. Since she didn't have much homework and Dustin had to work, Miranda had decided to tag along to play practice to see how it was coming along; it had been a while since she had dropped by. I was kind of suspicious that she had a hidden motive: making sure that I talked to Gordo. She seemed hell bent on getting us to work out whatever had happened between us. In fact, she seemed to be more concerned than I was!  
  
"Are you ready?" I asked as I shut my locker door. When Miranda nodded her affirmation, I grinned and headed for the auditorium, which was on the opposite end of the hallway. Once we reached it, I noticed that there were already several cast members inside, rehearsing their lines. From what I could see, everyone seemed to have most of their lines memorized and seemed to be pretty comfortable with their parts . . . everyone except for Kate, that is, who was still sulking about me not being willing to give her the part of Satine.  
  
Miranda nudged me in the side with her elbow and then pointed to the back of the auditorium. "There's Gordo," she whispered in my ear. She gave me a little push and I shot her the most hateful look I could muster.  
  
"He hasn't attempted to talk to me, so why should I attempt to talk to him?" I asked stubbornly, crossing my arms.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, I didn't want to say this, but do you even realize how childish you are being about this whole thing?" she asked, pushing me again. "_Go_."  
  
I sighed. At that point, I realized that there was no way that Miranda was going to relent; that just wasn't her nature. I wanted to reconcile with Gordo, too. I bit my lip and, mustering up all the courage I possibly could, I walked across the room to Gordo, who was sitting with Shawn Dotson and Ethan Craft, who played the part of the Duke. I stopped short and looked over my shoulder at Miranda, who began to make a shoo-ing motion with her hands. I took another deep breath and continued on my way to their seats.  
  
"Um, Gordo?" I asked, unsure of what to say to him. He looked up at me and I was shocked to see the anger in his usually indifferent brown eyes. Whatever I had done, it had either pissed him off, hurt him, or both. Hesitantly, I continued, "Can I talk to you?"  
  
He was silent. I looked down at my hands for a moment, and then looked back up at him again. "Please? It's important," I added. I was disgusted with how my voice was making me sound like I was begging him to talk to me.  
  
There was a pause that seemed to last for an eternity, and then Gordo nodded. "I guess," he mumbled, standing up and stepping over Shawn's legs. "I'll be back in a minute, guys." Then he walked to the very back of the auditorium, stepping through a set of double doors that lead into a small lobby. I breathed a sigh of relief and followed him.  
  
Gordo stopped at the doors and looked out. There were still some kids running around outside, waiting for their buses to come, since school had just ended. I walked up behind him and prepared to reach out to touch his arm, but he whirled around and faced me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Just tell me what you want to talk about and get it over with," Gordo said, his voice cold.  
  
I couldn't do anything but stare at him for a moment. "I want to know what your problem is!" I snapped, taking a step back. "You've been acting like such a jerk and I don't know what I did to deserve it!"  
  
Gordo opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then he closed it again. After a second, he returned, "I've been acting like a jerk? You're the one who blew me off so you could go out on a _date_ with some random guy!"  
  
"Is that what this is about?" I asked, incredulous. "My date with Andrew? Gordo--Miranda asked me to go out with him because she promised Dustin she would find Andrew a date. Dustin and Andrew are cousins. We're just friends."  
  
"Yeah? So I guess that lovely kiss that I witnessed was just between friends?" He rolled his eyes. "Lizzie, I don't want to talk about this anymore." With that, Gordo began to head back for the auditorium.  
  
I caught his arm and stopped him from walking away. "There is no way in hell that I am letting you walk through that door. You will stay in here and we will talk about this." I took his silence as permission to continue. "And how did you know he kissed me? How did you know I went on a date with him? Have you been _spying_ on me?" I demanded, feeling my eyes widen.  
  
"I just--saw it, that's all," Gordo replied, sounding unsure of himself. "And since the Lizzie I know doesn't just grab random guys out of fancy restaurants and attach herself to him, I concluded that you were on a date. The point is, you blew me off for _Andrew_ when we already had a study date made prior!" He spat out Andrew's name as if it were venemous.  
  
I stared for a minute. Thousands of thoughts were flitting through my head. "Why are you making such a huge issue out of this? What's it to you who I date?" My question was pointed and I knew what the answer I wanted to hear was.  
  
"It's just--" He stopped. "Lizzie, let's not go there."  
  
I stepped closer to him and looked directly in his eyes. "What is it, Gordo?" I asked again.  
  
His breathing seemed to become more labored the longer we stood there. My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited in anticipation for his answer. The time seemed to be ticking by extra-slowly, and Gordo seemed to be taking his time with his answer. After another agonizing moment, I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. I could feel the warm tears forming in my eyes and it took all I had not to let them flood down my cheeks. I couldn't let him see me cry.  
  
Just as I was about to turn and walk away, Gordo's answer came, in a strangled voice. "You're my best friend, Lizzie, and I just worry about you."  
  
It was like someone had just stabbed me in the heart with a rusted dagger. All the hope of him feeling the same way about me that I felt about him deflated with his statement. _His best friend . . . that's all I'll ever be to him._ Putting on my usual happy exterior, I forced a smile onto my face. "Oh, all right. You're my best friend, too. Thanks for caring." Even to my ears, the words sounded false, but I hoped that sounded genuine to Gordo. There was a short pause and I looked to the doors. Through a crack I could see Mrs. Baxter talking to the other cast members so I turned to Gordo and said, "We should get back there."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Together, Gordo and I walked back into the main auditorium. Mrs. Baxter looked up and smiled at us. "Good! Satine, Christian, let's start at the beginning of the last scene!"   
  


**A/N:** I think there are some continuity issues with time in this fic, lol, but it'll be okay, I think! This chapter is longer than normal and kind of makes up for the shorter chapters that I have been dealing out, huh? *g* Thanks for the reviews! 


	11. Sealed With a Kiss

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Championships are over! My guard placed 2nd in our class so now we have pretty silver medals and the title of 2003 silver medalists. It's great. :) Anyway, thought I would update!  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Eleven:

  
  
"Are you sure you guys will be okay by yourselves?" Mom asked, looking worriedly outside, where it was currently pouring the rain. A flash of lightning illuminated our front yard, and I jumped a little.  
  
"We'll be fine, Mom," I assured her with a small laugh. "As long as Matt and Lanny stay out of our hair, everything will be great."  
  
The look of worry never left Mom's face, however, and I rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking. I was eighteen and she still worried about leaving me home alone, when technically I wasn't even home alone! It had been arranged that while Mom and Dad went downtown to have a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant for their 20 year anniversary, Gordo and I would work on the play while Matt and Lanny did something in Matt's room--they were probably plotting world domination or some other stupid thing like that, knowing them.  
  
Gordo chose that moment to speak up. "Mrs. McGuire, really, Lizzie and I will be fine," he said, his voice calm and soothing. "We'll lock all the doors and windows, turn on all the lights, and we won't open the door to anybody. Nobody at all! We have the emergency numbers, and if anything tragic should happen and we need a responsible adult, we'll call next door to Mrs. Roman's. You and Mr. McGuire need to go out and have a good time!"  
  
Mom seemed very cajoled with Gordo's comforting words and I grinned. "Well . . . you have Sam's beeper and cell number, right?" she asked, clutching her shawl around her shoulders more tightly. When Gordo and I nodded, Mom smiled. "All right, then. Keep Matt and Lanny in line for me. Sam, we'll be late! Hurry!"  
  
A few minutes later, after Dad came running down the stairs still tying his tie, my parents finally disappeared out the front door. Gordo and I watched them until they pulled out of the driveway and drove until we couldn't see them any longer, and then we shut and locked the door, as promised. Then I promptly collapsed against it, letting out a huge whoosh of air. "I thought we would never get them out of here!"  
  
Gordo laughed. "They're just being protective parents, Lizzie," he commented with a smile. "If my parents were as worried about me as yours are about you, I guarantee that I wouldn't do half the shit I do."  
  
"Yeah, like you're Mr. Badass," I remarked sarcastically, laughing when Gordo pretended to look offended. Once my laughing had more or less died down, Gordo and I headed for the living room, where we had put our books and bags when Gordo first arrived at my house. As we walked through the door, thunder clapped and lightning flashed and I jumped for the second time in ten minutes. Gordo laughed at me.  
  
I punched him playfully on the arm. "Stop that," I said, grinning at him. By that time we were in the living room so I flopped down on the couch next to Gordo's bookbag and reached for my copy of my script, which was sitting on the coffee table. Gordo moved his bag and sat down next to me, and I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not, but it seemed that he sat a little closer than he normally would. I smiled to myself and for a brief moment wondered if he possibly liked me as more than a friend.  
  
Then I reminded myself that we had promised after the junior high incident to never fall for each other again, and Gordo wasn't one to break promises. I was the opposite of Gordo in that respect, and I had broken that promise, but it was not very likely that Gordo had. I sighed resignedly and flipped to a random page in my script.  
  
Gordo must have heard my sigh. "What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," I said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Gordo, we really need to work on these trouble spots. Opening night isn't too far away," I added.  
  
Gordo took my script from me and made me look at him. "Tell me what's wrong," he stated in a demanding voice.  
  
I rolled my eyes and tried to snatch my script back from him, but he held it just out of my reach. "Gordo! I _said_ nothing is wrong!" I shouted, a bit louder than I had intended. He was making me mad, however, so I couldn't help it. I practically tackled him in an attempt to get the script back, but Gordo managed to hold it just far enough away from me so that I couldn't reach it. Finally I sat back, defeated, and crossed my arms over my chest. "You are really pissing me off. You know that, right?"  
  
He smiled faintly. "Yes, I'm aware," he returned. "But not purposely. I just wanted to know why you sighed."  
  
"It's nothing!" I exclaimed again. "Listen, Gordo, I'm not feeling very well. Maybe you should go home."  
  
I felt guilty as soon as the hurt look crossed Gordo's face. I wanted to apologize and tell him that I was just PMSing, but I could tell that it was too late by the way the hurt look was almost immediately replaced with a look of indifference. When Gordo was hurt or angry, that was the look he wore and a simple apology could never make it better.  
  
"If that's what you think," Gordo answered, his voice cold, as he stood up and began gathering his things. "I guess we could work on this _when you feel better_." By the tone of his voice, I could tell that he knew I had made up the excuse on the spot, and my guilt rose.  
  
I followed him out of the room. I found it hard to keep up with his long strides due to my legs, which were much shorter than his, but I managed to stay within a foot of him. He and I reached the door at the same time, and I managed to jump in front to block his exit. "Don't go. I suddenly feel a whole lot better."  
  
Gordo did not look convinced and he tried to move past me to leave. "Lizzie, please move out of my way," he said, his voice controlled.  
  
"Gordo," I started again, but he cut me off.  
  
"_Move._" When I didn't do like he asked, Gordo gently pushed me aside and opened the door wide enough for him to slip out. "Talk to you later."  
  
A thousand thoughts were running through my head at that moment. I had no idea what to do, so I just did the first logical thing I came up with: I grabbed Gordo's arm to prevent him from leaving, causing him to turn around to look at me questioningly, just like I had expected him to. Taking a quick deep breath, I mustered all the courage I had and kissed him directly on the lips.   
  


**A/N:** Guess what!! THEY KISSED! I'm thinking that I will be able to finish up this story in 2-3 more chapters, but since I'm such an odd person, anything can change at any moment. Hopefully you found this chapter to your liking, and I will be back very soon (a couple of days) with chapter 12. Plus, I will be posting a ghost story I wrote for English class on FictionPress.net here in a little bit, so I'll make the announcement when it is posted in case anybody wants to read it! I'm also working on an original story, tentatively titled "Painted Black", and the first chapter should be out in a few days. As a final note, I have writers block for _Old, New, Borrowed, Blue_ so I am accepting any ideas/requests anyone has for that!! Thanks! 


	12. Phone Calls

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** I was able to get this one out sooner than I thought! :) Go me. Anyway, hope you enjoy!  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Twelve:

  
  
I was shocked. I was in awe. Two hours after I had kissed Gordo, I was still unable to identify all the emotions rushing through my body at the same time. I was happy, I was sad, I was thrilled, I was exhilarated, I was wondering if I was dreaming or if it really happened . . .  
  
I _kissed_ Gordo.  
  
I couldn't help but giggle girlishly as I recalled his reaction--of course, he hadn't been expecting me to kiss him. For the first few seconds of the kiss, Gordo hadn't reacted and I had been about to cry. Then, ever-so-slowly, he kissed me back.  
  
The simple kiss has only lasted moments and was chaste and closed-mouthed. But it felt as if every ounce of our passion had been let loose in just mere moments. For me, it was a kiss of resigned fury at keeping my feelings for Gordo at bay for so long . . . I have a feeling it was the same for him, as well.  
  
Just thinking about how Gordo's soft lips felt against mine brought a new surge of happiness to me. I still couldn't believe it--Gordo and I were officially a couple, and that feeling ranked pretty damn high on my chart.  
  
I giggled again and sat up, clutching one of my many teddy bears to my chest. After going up to room after Gordo left, I had carefully chosen the bear from my large shelf of stuffed animals for one reason--it was a Christmas gift from Gordo, and due to it's prolonged stay in his room (I had kept forgetting to take it home with me whenever I visited him, and he had kept forgetting to bring it to me), smelled just like Gordo . . . heavenly was one word that could explain his scent, yet that didn't even do it justice.  
  
I reached over to the phone on my bedside table. Miranda would probably be thrilled to hear this news; she had been pushing Gordo and me together for as long as I could remember. I dialed her number quickly and listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before Mrs. Sanchez answered. "Hello, Sanchez residence. How can I help you?" the woman asked, her voice slightly accented.  
  
"Hey, Mrs. Sanchez," I responded, twirling the cord of my phone around my index finger. "How are you?"  
  
I could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Lizzie, it's been a while since I talked to you! I'm doing great; how have you been, dear?"  
  
"Great," I said. "Is Miranda there?"  
  
"Yes, dear. She's upstairs with that boyfriend of hers." Mrs. Sanchez's voice was laced with disdain, and I recalled how upset Miranda's parents, particularly her mother, had been when Miranda announced that she and Dustin were a couple. "I'll call her down, Lizzie," Mrs. Sanchez added.  
  
"Thanks." I heard the woman set the phone down and call for Miranda. A few seconds later, someone picked up.  
  
"Hola!" Miranda chirped.  
  
How could I begin? This was big news, and it deserved a special introduction. However, since I was unable to come up with anything special, I simply stated, "You will never believe what happened."  
  
"Hm . . ." Miranda said contemplatively. "Let's see. Matt accidentally got packaged and sent to Zimbabwe in the mail?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "That's ridiculous, Miranda!" I said with a laugh. "Let's steer toward something that could _possibly_ happen."  
  
There was a small, annoyed sigh from her. In a hushed voice, she asked, "Lizzie, could we talk about whatever this is about later? Dustin has to go home in, like, thirty minutes and we haven't been able to spend very much quality time together lately."  
  
I snorted. "Does this 'quality time' involve screwing him?" I asked sarcastically. When I got no reply, I continued, "Miranda, this is big news and you don't even care. You're my best friend; if you don't care, who will?"  
  
"Lizzie, don't play the guilt card on me, please," she said annoyedly. "I don't know how many times you chose to go out with your boyfriend of the moment instead of me, so it's not going to work."  
  
I knew she was right, but I didn't want to admit that to her. "Whatever. Go ahead and have a great time with Dustin." I almost hung up the phone, but stopped and continued, "By the way, I kissed Gordo." With that, I placed the receiver back into the cradle and sat back against my pillows, fighting against the tears that were struggling to fall.  
  
**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**  
  
The next morning, I woke up bright and early only to hear the shrill ringing of my telephone. For a moment I wondered why Mom, Dad, or Matt hadn't answered it, but a look at my clock (which read 1:55) told me that they had probably either gone shopping or to Lanny's or Melina's, in Matt's case. I groaned and picked up the phone. "'Lo?" I asked groggily.  
  
"Lizzie?" came the plaintive voice of Miranda.  
  
I frowned. "Yeah?" I questioned, rubbing my eyes. When I brought my hand away, I noticed that there were black smudges on my fingertips, which indicated that I had forgotten to take my make-up off the night before. With all of the events of the previous night, however, it was a wonder that I hadn't forgotten to breathe.  
  
"I just wanted to call to make sure you aren't mad at me," Miranda said with a trace of hesitance. "And I wanted to apologize. I mean, you're my best friend and the guilt of choosing to spend time with Dustin instead of talking to you just really got to me, so I'm really, really, really sorry."  
  
I couldn't help but laugh. Leave it to Miranda to act like she had committed a federal crime. "It's okay, Miranda," I assured her. "I can understand wanting to spend time with your boyfriend." I paused for a moment, then corrected myself, "Well, I can now anyway." I didn't notice that I let out a little sigh until Miranda began cooing.  
  
"That's what I was meaning to ask you about," she stated. "So tell me, Lizzie--did you _really_ kiss Gordo, or was it the other way around?"  
  
"No, I definitely kissed him," I answered, feeling the grin rapidly spreading across my face. Without waiting for Miranda to reply, I immediately launched into a description of what had happened.  
  
Miranda let out a dreamy sigh. "Lizzie, that is so romantic," she gushed. "I cannot believe you two are finally together--you _are_ together now, right?"  
  
I smiled. "Yes, we are. And I can't believe we're actually together now, either. It's amazing." I punctuated my sentence with a sigh. "'Gordo and Lizzie.' Doesn't it just sound great together?"  
  
"Why am I lapsing back into primary school memories?" Miranda questioned jokingly, referring to how we used to write things such as "Gordo and Lizzie" on notebook paper and draw lopsided hearts around them. "Anyway, I'm so happy for you guys. I was just beginning to think you all were a lost cause!"  
  
"Gee, thanks for giving up on us so quickly."  
  
"Quickly?" Miranda shrieked. "I seem to remember trying to make Gordo kiss you out on the playground in third grade, so do not say I gave up quickly!"  
  
I laughed along with Miranda. We talked for a while longer about different things, mostly Gordo, opening night of _Moulin Rouge_ (which was just a week away), and graduation, which was coming up in a couple of months. About a half hour later, the doorbell rang and I discovered it was Gordo.  
  
"Gordo's here," I said excitedly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "I gotta go!"  
  
"Oh, all right. Just abandon poor Miranda," she said teasingly, but I could tell she was joking.  
  
"Miranda," I said.  
  
She erupted into laughter. "Bye, Lizzie. But remember . . . you have to tell me if Gordo's a good kisser!"   
  


**A/N:** I _think_ the next chapter will be the last chapter of _Things I'll Never Say_. But never fear . . . I'm going to continued ONBB and I'm also going to start a new LM story--any requests for what you'd like to see happen?  
  
I revised chapters 8 and 10 to include a little bit more about Lizzie's date with Andrew and to explain how Gordo knew about the date and how he knew they kissed. Hopefully, it was made a little clearer. Thanks archforge for that constructive criticism! :) 


	13. The Play's the Thing

_**Things I'll Never Say**_  
  


**A/N:** Oh my gosh . . . I can hardly believe that my very first LM fic is OVER. When I first started this, I had no idea that people would actually like it; in fact, I was almost sure that everyone would hate it and think I was a crappy writer. Needless to say, I was surprised when I got my first reviews . . . and then the reviews kept coming and I was ecstatic! There were a couple of times during the course of this story that I felt I was getting a little tired of it, but all I had to do was look at the encouraging reviews everyone has given me and I would be motivated to continue writing. THANK YOU SO MUCH! A thank you to everyone who reviewed TINS will be uploaded as well, so look out for that and look for your name. It should be up in a couple of days, since I have to write out all the responses. :) Anyway, on with the final chapter of _Things I'll Never Say_.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; _Moulin Rouge_ belongs to Baz Luhrmann.

  
  


Chapter Thirteen:

  
  
Opening night came and before I knew it, I was standing backstage in one of my many costumes, waiting for my cue. At that moment, Gordo was onstage delivering the opening speech. To get an idea of how many people I would be performing for, I stole a peek from where I was standing and was nearly floored; the auditorium was packed and there were even people standing around the back because of the lack of enough seats. Suddenly, I was scared.  
  
At least, I was scared until Miranda, who had somehow managed to worm her way backstage, came skipping over to me. "Are you ready?" she whispered once she reached me.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Oh my God, I'm so scared," I said. "What if--what if I trip on my way out there?" Though I had grown out of my clumsy junior high stage, I still tripped over my own feet every now and then and I couldn't think of anything that would be more embarrassing than falling flat on my face as soon as I made my entrance.  
  
Miranda grinned. "You're not going to trip. And you're going to be wonderful!" she assured me, calming me down in the way that only a best friend could.  
  
"Why are so many people here?" I asked urgently. I couldn't remember a time when enough people to fill the auditorium were interested in one of Mrs. Baxter's productions.  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes. "Everyone wants to see you and Gordo kiss, duh," she said with a grin. "And don't play dumb, Lizzie. Everyone in this school knows how long you two have had a thing for each other."  
  
"No way," I said. "You're exaggerating!"  
  
Miranda shook her head. "I am not," she stated matter-of-factly. "I even started a bet with the cast of this play, and everyone was in agreement that you and Gordo would get together before opening night." She smirked. "So, you see, everyone knows."  
  
Before I could say anything, the cue for my entrance came. I walked from the back of the stage to where my "trapeze" was hanging, in the middle. I sat on it, being careful to leave most of my weight on my legs; although Mrs. Baxter had assured me numerous times that the trapeze was sturdy enough for my weight, I wasn't going to risk anything. I heard Shawn whisper, "_It's her, the Sparkling Diamond!"_ from his spot across the stage and I took a deep breath.  
  
"_The French are glad to die for love. They delight in fighting duels,_" I sang, smiling.  
  
"_But someone else was to meet Satine that night,_" Gordo said. He was sitting beside of Shawn, where he was doing his voice-overs.  
  
When he finished his line, I continued, "_But I prefer a man who lives . . ._"  
  
"_Zidler's investor . . ._" Gordo continued.  
  
I continued singing the song, my voice lowering so that the audience could hear Ethan Craft (the Duke) and Lucas Donovan (Zidler) as they said their lines. Pretty soon, I was offstage again, panting for breath.  
  
The play continued without hindrance. It was going really well, and "Christian" and I had managed to act out our more intimate scenes without blushing, despite the loud catcalls coming from the audience. Before I knew it, I was onstage again, arguing with "Zidler".  
  
"_Are you mad? The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge. He's spending a fortune on you. He's given you a beautiful new dressing room. He wants to make you a star. And you're dallying with the writer?_" Lucas exclaimed, walking toward me.  
  
Nervously, I answered, "_Oh . . . Harold, don't be ridiculous . . ._"  
  
"_I SAW YOU TOGETHER!_" Lucas boomed. He was really getting into his character, I could tell.  
  
"_It's nothing; it's just an infatuation. It's nothing,_" I repeated, turning my back.  
  
Menacingly, Lucas said, "_The infatuation will end. Go to the boy; tell him it's over. The Duke is expecting you in the Tower at eight._" With that, he stalked off the stage from the left, leaving me alone.  
  
Slowly, I began to sing, "_If I should die this very moment . . . I wouldn't fear. For I've never known completeness. Like being here, wrapped in the warmth of you. Loving every breath of you, why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day . . ._" I stopped and then gasped.  
  
From offstage, Gordo's voice came, "_How could I know in those last fatal days--_" I started to cough violently, interrupting his words. Gordo continued, "_But a force darker than jealousy and stronger than love began to take hold of Satine?_" When he finished his words, I fainted.  
  
The play continued progressing nicely. Everything was going really well and the audience seemed to be eating it up--especially the scenes that Gordo and I had together. It took all of my willpower not to blush a bright red and laugh nervously, but I managed to contain myself.  
  
The end of the play came quickly and soon Gordo and I were on the stage, along with several other cast members. Gordo, very nicely playing his part of Christian, stalked over to where I was lying on the floor. He threw the fake money he was holding in his hand at my feet. "_I paid my whore! I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love._" He stalked off the stage and began walking through the audience as he was supposed to.  
  
After a few lines were read, Shawn as Toulouse yelled at Gordo's retreating back, "_I got it, I got it! Christian! THE GREATEST THING YOU'LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVE LOVED IN RETURN!_"  
  
I was trembling. This whole thing suddenly felt so real to me, like I really was Satine and Gordo really was Christian. Involuntarily, I began to cry. "_Want to vanish inside your kiss. Everyday I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings? Come back to me and forgive everything!_" I paused and gasped, then continued weakly, "_Seasons may change winter to spring. I love you . . . till the end of time._"  
  
After a pause, Gordo sang his line, "_Come what may . . ._"  
  
The scene continued. Finally, it was time for my "dying scene". "_You've got to go on Christian,_" I begged, coughing a little for good measure.  
  
Frantically, Gordo cried, "_I can't go on without you!_" He held me tight in his arms and for a moment I got lost in his scent.  
  
"_You've got so much to give . . . tell your story Christian!_"   
  
He shook his head and the tears began to fall. "_No!_" he cried.  
  
"_Yes,_" I said. "_Promise me._" When he said nothing, I exclaimed, "_Promise me!_"  
  
"_No,_" he said again.  
  
"_Yes. That way, I'll always be with you._" My voice had grown weaker accordingly, and I allowed my body to go limp, and I "died". The curtain fell and I scrambled to run offstage. Gordo took his place in front of the curtain while Shawn followed me and sang his last line.  
  
"_There was a boy--a very strange, enchanted boy . . ._"  
  
From my place, I could hear Gordo. "_Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then on one not so very special day, I went to my typewriter and sat down and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place. A story about the people but most of all, a story about love. A love that will live forever._" His voice cracked and there was a pause. Finally, Gordo said, "_The end._"   
  


**A/N:** A whole hell of a lot of this chapter was the play, but hopefully you'll like it! As I said before, I can't believe it's over . . . my baby!!! AHHH! I'm going to say right now: there will not be a sequel to this story, although I'm still kind of stuck between writing a sequel and not writing one, but I think it's best if I don't. I can move on to other projects, which include my original story and another LM story. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed TINS. It means more to me than you'll ever know. :) The thank yous will be posted in a few days, probably.  
  
On a side note, chapter one of my original story _Summer Loving_ (for lack of a better title; I am open to any suggestions!!) is up on FictionPress.net if you want to take a look! _Painted Black_ ended up not working out, so I started on SL, which has been sitting in my plot bunnies folder forever. 


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